Eidolic
by ignis-ad-iudicem
Summary: A tale in which a child grows, and a kind ghost guides. Drabble fic centered around AU England and America.
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER:** This is the general disclaimer for the entire story. I don't own any of the characters.

* * *

Arthur has always been alone.

In the two hundred-odd years since his death, a British colonist with nothing to lose exploring the New World, he has had no company.

He doesn't mind, not really.

It's better this way, to him. It's quiet, and though some of the other dead visit occasionally, it's too much effort to do consistently.

It's nothing new, when this young family moves into the home built atop what was once his. He closes his eyes once again, wearily fading in and out, his perceptions blurry.

Nothing changes. It never does. _I hope…they're quiet, at the least._

* * *

 **Word Count:** 100

 **Publish Date:** May 31, 2016

 **Author's Notes:** It's been ages since I chose to write but I had such a cute idea I couldn't resist. Expect a StarCraft oneshot soon as well. And please, be sure to leave a review if you do like this start, or message if you have any questions, it really lets me know how I'm doing and anything to help me get back in my stride would be amazing :)


	2. Chapter 2

Arthur notes dully in the half-awake moments that the newest family seems rather nice. Young couple, very typical, and they dote on their new baby, a little boy.

He's glad they aren't too loud, and that they seem to be very happy together.

He will even admit—albeit grudgingly—that the tiny boy's burbling laughter makes him smile when he isn't paying attention.

Only because he's half-asleep, of course; he is no weak—

 _Oh, dimples!_

Arthur thinks perhaps he will wake up more these days and watch.

He has all of eternity, after all. Why not enjoy one family's presence?

* * *

 **Word Count:** 100

 **Publish Date:** May 31, 2016

 **Author's Note:** Arthur's such a big softie. He thinks he's spoopy, though.


	3. Chapter 3

And so, the weeks, months roll by. Time, after all, means nothing to Arthur any longer—and so he drifts, amusedly watching the blonde baby's antics in his lucid moments and drifting without anchor the remainder of the time.

He was a spirit with nothing to cling to, a drifter in the truest sense of the word. The other ghosts were kind, and he didn't mind their company—but he didn't seek it, either. He simply didn't care about the goings-on of the outside world. He preferred his quiet, dark corners.

 _There's nothing to live for when you're already dead._

* * *

 **Word Count:** 100

 **Publish Date:** May 31, 2016


	4. Chapter 4

It all changes when Alfred learns to crawl.

At seven months, he fumbles, but he manages to scooch his way into the seldom-used study, cooing and babbling happily.

 _He's speaking so well already,_ Arthur thinks sleepily. _What a bright baby._

He's shocked awake by the feel of a tiny hand patting through his half-there leg and against the fabric of the couch he sleeps invisible on, the baby blinking in quiet confusion before letting out a quiet wail.

Arthur blinks bemusedly at him, materializing fully to pick him up and bounce him atop his cold knee.

 _This one sees truth._

* * *

 **Posted:** June 1, 2016

 **Word Count:** 100

 **Author's Notes:** Goal is one chapter posted a day. Writing a bit in advance to try and keep that going, so be sure to check back. I know it's slow going, especially as a drabble, but I really love the style and I hope you all like this. Please leave reviews, I love your feedback and it really does help me improve!


	5. Chapter 5

_**Eidolic**_

* * *

Arthur had possessed the sight too, in life, and so understood what the child's life would entail.

 _Still, he won't see us if he does not wish to, not past a year or two. And there are no ill-wishing spirits here._

His eyebrows quirked as the energetic baby tugged at his translucent bangs, laughing delightedly.

"It seems I can't hide from you after all," he murmured good-naturedly. "Not if you come to find me."

Stoically enduring the childish tugs at his rather busy eyebrows, Arthur sighed.

 _I almost hope he chooses not to believe. It's so much easier that way._

* * *

 **Posted:** June 2, 2016

 **Word Count:** 100


	6. Chapter 6

_**Eidolic**_

* * *

Instead, baby Alfred manages to escape his crib and his parents' watchful eyes almost every day thereafter, tottering around until he manages to find Arthur and gurgling happily at the dead man once he does.

It drives his poor mother wild until Arthur simply follows the woman from room to room most of the time, often sitting in the corner and reading the ragged Bible he was buried with.

Alfred's parents worry at first at the way the boy's eyes follow nothing, but after a while they simply dismiss it as a healthy imagination.

They have never been so happy.

* * *

 **Posted:** June 3, 2016

 **Word Count:** 100


	7. Chapter 7

_**Eidolic**_

* * *

Arthur no longer sleeps. Instead, he watches over Alfred with a ghost of a smile throughout the day, reading to him quietly when his mother's back is turned.

He sees quite early that Alfred is remarkably intelligent; he listens attentively when spoken to, and he laughs at almost everything, giggling half-words all the time.

Arthur reads him stories of the epic kings and queens, all of the fantastic wonders in his holy book. He will never admit it, but secretly the adventures are his favourite too.

Alfred's parents sense nothing but comfortable silence, a sense of constant well-being each day.

* * *

 **Posted:** June 4, 2016

 **Word Count:** 100


	8. Chapter 8

_**Eidolic**_

* * *

Alfred's first word is not "mama" or "papa," or even "dada."

No, Alred's first word is "Aw-fer?"

He pouts and lisps it out rather adorably, tugging at Arthur's sleeve to wake him; the ghost is more sleepy than usual, barely there and sprawled in the kitchen corner.

"Aw-fer!" he repeats stubbornly, batting at the young man's leg insistently, and Arthur blinks sleepily awake.

Alfred's parents coo and fuss over him, trying to figure out what their boy is saying. Later, they dismiss it as his first word and count his first cry of "Mama!" instead.

But Arthur cries in happiness.

* * *

 **Posted:** June 5, 2016

 **Word Count:** 100


	9. Chapter 9

_**Eidolic**_

* * *

The weeks and months fly by as Alfred grows, Arthur whispering stories and slowly teaching him to converse.

Though his accent confuses the boy, his grammar is modern at least, if a bit formal; he has learned over the years from the living.

Alfred's parents simply shrug at the way their boy squeals at thin air, thinking that he is so clever to already have an imaginary friend, and smile delightedly at his one-sided toddler antics.

Arthur simply cannot bring himself to correct Alfred's lisp, though. _So cute._

The smiles he hated so much in life, he gives in death.

* * *

 **Posted:** June 6, 2016

 **Word Count:** 100


	10. Chapter 10

_**Eidolic**_

* * *

Still, Alfred is far too clever for his own good. On his fourth birthday, he asks his parents to set aside a slice of cake for Arthur, who had held his hand as he blew out his big-boy candles.

When his mother smiles indulgently and says, "Of course, honey" as she cuts a slice of imaginary cake, Alfred's nose crinkles as he screws his face up in concentration.

He says nothing then, but later, in his room, he asks, "Awfer, how come my momma can'th thee you?"

Arthur's eyes soften. "I'm your special friend, just for you."

Simple as that.

* * *

 **Posted:** June 7, 2016

 **Word Count:** 100


	11. Chapter 11

_**Eidolic**_

* * *

Still, while to Alfred the reasoning is sound, Arthur knows he will have to explain one day, unless Alfred chooses to stop believing—which he shows absolutely no indication of doing.

"Is your invisible friend coming too, dear?" Alfred's mother asks, helping the boy slip on his jacket.

"Nooo, Awfer sayth it hurth to leave the houth."

Alfred's mother tips her head curiously. "Why would it hurt a little boy to leave a house?"

Alfred giggles, "Awfer's not little, thilly. He'th thuper old, 'cept not. He'th all grown up and thmart."

Alfred already understands that Arthur's mind is his own.

* * *

 **Posted:** June 8, 2016

 **Word Count:** 100

 **Author's note:** I really want to thank you guys. There's just been a steadily growing number of followers for this story and it's incredible, I hope you're really enjoying the content I'm putting up. Please review if you have the time, it really helps me out when you tell me what you do and don't like about the story! Thanks so much for all the support again, and happy reading!


	12. Chapter 12

_**Eidolic**_

* * *

All good things come to an end, of course; once Alfred is sent to preschool, he quickly understands the difference between his classmates' imaginary friends and Arthur. Arthur he can see, interact with, talk to. Arthur is smarter than Alfred, and teaches him _awesome_ things.

Eliza's friend is little and not smart, and she forgets about her. She can't see her or touch her, and neither can Alfred. Kiku's friends are the same way.

"How come you're tho different, Awfer?" Alfred asks curiously, climbing clumsily into the man's lap to play a clapping game with him.

Arthur just smiles sadly.

* * *

 **Posted:** June 9, 2016

 **Word Count:** 100

 **Author's note:** So, hey! While I have a good bit of this story planned out, I think there's a lot of little moments I want to incorporate. To that end, I'd really love it if you have an idea for it, or just a one-word prompt for me. If you have anything like that-short prompts are preferable, I find them easier to spin off of-leave it in a review, or message me with it if it's long? Chances are I'll use it sooner or later if it doesn't disrupt the plot! If and/or when I do, I'll shoot you a message about it, and you'll be credited in the notes for the chapter(s).


	13. Chapter 13

_**Eidolic**_

* * *

Still, Arthur manages to avoid telling Alfred the truth almost until his year of kindergarten is over, his lisp trained away.

Until Alfred gets into a fight with his classmates and comes home sniffling but unharmed, with dusty knees and a wobbly lower lip.

"They said you aren't real and that I'm just a baby," Alfred sulks, pouting. "But you are! I know you are!"

"Hush, lad," Arthur murmurs, dusting him off and putting a plaster over his paper cut. "I am real, aye, but also not. They aren't wrong."

Alfred's eyes flash defiantly. "They are too! You're mine! Real!"

* * *

 **Posted:** June 10, 2016

 **Word Count:** 100

 **Author's note:** Sorry about the repeated messages, just repeating to make sure the steady readers notice! While I have a good bit of this story planned out, I think there's a lot of little moments I want to incorporate. To that end, I'd really love it if you have an idea for it, or just a one-word prompt for me. If you have anything like that-short prompts are preferable, I find them easier to spin off of-leave it in a review, or message me with it if it's long? Chances are I'll use it sooner or later if it doesn't disrupt the plot! If and/or when I do, I'll shoot you a message about it, and you'll be credited in the notes for the chapter(s).


	14. Chapter 14

_**Eidolic**_

* * *

Arthur sighs, scooping him up and carrying the little troublemaker back to his bed, tugging the sheets snugly up to his chin.

"They think I'm not real because you're the only one who can see me, Al," he explains.

Alfred just blinks confusedly.

"You're a special boy, Alfred. You see things other people can't. There are some people, you see…they see what others can't. I used to be able to, like you…"

Arthur pauses for a moment, his stomach knotting in dread. "Alfred…what if I told you I was dead and that you can see me because I'm a ghost?"

* * *

 **Posted:** June 11, 2016

 **Word Count:** 100

 **Author's note:** Ooh, Arthur… :(


	15. Chapter 15

_**Eidolic**_

* * *

Alfred looks at him.

Arthur stares back.

Alfred sits up and pokes Arthur in the nose.

Arthur blinks.

"Okay," Alfred shrugs, beaming up at him.

Arthur can't help but laugh, because really, he should have known.

"Alfred, I want you to listen to me. This is serious, alright?"

Alfred blinks owlishly at him, big blue eyes sleepy, but nods.

"Not every ghost is as nice as I am, understand? There can be bad spirits, just like bad people. There aren't any around here, but as long as you choose to see us, you should be careful."

Alfred nods.

Arthur sighs.

* * *

 **Posted:** June 12, 2016

 **Word Count:** 100

 **Author's note:** This was one of my favorite scenes to write. I wanted it simple but meaningful; I'm still not entirely sure I managed to convey the tone I wanted. Everything is sort of super cute right now in my opinion. Thoughts?


	16. Chapter 16

_**Eidolic**_

* * *

Arthur knows it will be quite a while before Alfred truly understands what choosing to see him will entail. It will be harder to stop his sight later on, true, but he cannot bring himself to simply leave and allow the boy to believe him imaginary.

He can no longer imagine life without Alfred.

He doesn't want to.

Alfred bounds through his bedroom door, bouncing on top of his racecar-themed bed as he begins to chatter, telling Arthur about his day.

Arthur decides that it's okay to enjoy this while it lasts, and smears finger paint on messy Alfred's nose.

* * *

 **Posted:** June 13, 2016

 **Word Count:** 100

 **Author's note:** Sorry about the repeated messages, just repeating one last time to make sure the steady readers notice! While I have a good bit of this story planned out, I think there's a lot of little moments I want to incorporate. To that end, I'd really love it if you have an idea for it, or just a one-word prompt for me. If you have anything like that-short prompts are preferable, I find them easier to spin off of-leave it in a review, or message me with it if it's long? Chances are I'll use it sooner or later if it doesn't disrupt the plot! If and/or when I do, I'll shoot you a message about it, and you'll be credited in the notes for the chapter(s).


	17. Chapter 17

_**Eidolic**_

* * *

Alfred manages to surprise the Brit, though, showing a surprising level of maturity. He learns on his own once he turns seven not to talk to him in front of people, understanding that privacy meant time with Arthur unscolded and unquestioned.

Arthur learns to wait for Alfred, haunting his room constantly as he makes the boy small treats—complex origami animals learned from Alfred's kiddie craft books. He writes short, simple stories to read him to sleep.

(Alfred had decided much to his mother's chagrin early on that Arthur's stories were superior.)

And in return, Alfred offers his best treasures.

* * *

 **Posted:** June 14, 2016

 **Word Count:** 100


	18. Chapter 18

_**Eidolic**_

* * *

Alfred keeps a box for Arthur, a little wooden one he painted himself. Covered in clumsily-sketched cowboys and horses, he stashes it in a hidden wall panel in the study for Arthur, and brings him his heart all the time.

A friendship bracelet made in first grade; a special Halloween ghost, in second. A big sparkly rock from kindergarten. A feather that had fallen in his hair. A spelling test marked with a big red "100."

And all the while as Alfred steadily grows (like a weed!), Arthur remains his bestest friend _ever_.

He tucks him in with a smile.

* * *

 **Posted:** June 15, 2016

 **Word Count:** 100


	19. Chapter 19

_**Eidolic**_

* * *

When Alfred turns seven, the age of reason, Arthur decides with a heavy heart that it is time to teach the boy more of this other world he can see.

He grieves already for the boy's loss of innocence, for the fear he had once known as a child, haunted by things only he could see.

But it is time; there can be no more delay.

(In truth, there could be, but he knows no other way than what he experienced so long ago.)

So the ghost of an age gone by asks the living boy what knowledge he desires.

* * *

 **Posted:** June 16, 2016

 **Word Count:** 100

 **Author's Note:** There may be some slight delay and non-daily posting in Eidolic for a few days. I don't think so, but fair warning! I ran into a roadblock at work and have been going nuts with my team fixing things and staying late, so I haven't had that much time to write ahead lately. I think I can continue pretty much uninterrupted, but in the case of a day or two without update, yeah. Sorry! ^^;


	20. Chapter 20

_**Eidolic**_

* * *

Arthur knew he shouldn't have been surprised when Alfred stared at him with those big blue eyes and asked, "Are there more ghosts nearby?"

He just hadn't braced himself for that one.

He'd been expecting questions about telepathy, walking through walls, or more about his past, but all in all that was a rather healthy question.

Arthur chewed on his lip as he thought of all the friendly dead nearby, and finally nodded to the boy.

"I will see if I can arrange a meeting with a father and son I know for you, lad."

Alfred beamed. "Thank you, Arthur!"

* * *

 **Posted:** June 17, 2016

 **Word Count:** 100


	21. Chapter 21

_**Eidolic**_

* * *

It takes a week for Arthur to find them again while Alfred sleeps, slipping through incorporeal trails he once travelled long ago, in a more curious time. It takes most of his energy, but he manages to forge farther ahead each day, resting when Alfred is at school.

Finally, he finds them.

He holds his breath as he passes through the very real house surrounding a smaller structure long gone, the scent of fresh bread wafting around him as he knocks on the door that isn't there.

Excited, melodic murmurs, and the door is thrown open.

"Arthur, mon petit chou!"

* * *

 **Posted:** June 18, 2016

 **Word Count:** 100

 **Author's Note:** You didn't think I wouldn't include him, did you?!


	22. Chapter 22

_**Eidolic**_

* * *

Francis flung himself at Arthur with an overexuberant embrace, the Brit awkwardly patting his old friend's back.

"You're traumatizing him again, Papa," a younger voice softly admonished the Frenchman.

"But Mathieu," Francis pouted at his son as he rounded the corner with a quiet smile, "It's been decades since we saw him!"

Matthew waved off his fluttering father and offered Arthur a shy smile. "Welcome back, Uncle Arthur."

Arthur couldn't help smiling back at the mild-mannered teen, crossing the threshold and following the two into their comfortable memories of home.

"It's good to see you two again."

He'd missed them.

* * *

 **Posted:** June 19, 2016

 **Word Count:** 100

 **Author's Note:** To clarify, they aren't actually brothers; Matthew simply calling him uncle in the way you'd consider a close family friend part of your family. Also! I know it would be more technically correct to name Matthew Mathieu as they are French for the purposes of this story, but...honestly...I know I'd forget eventually and it'd drive me crazy, so I'm just kinda giving myself a pass on that.

As always, thank you for reading; please read and review with comments, prompts, which characters you'd love to see or not see, and so on!


	23. Chapter 23

_**Eidolic**_

* * *

Arthur spends the entire night with Francis and Matthew, bickering amiably with his old friend while Matthew fluttered about the kitchen, baking tartlets.

With every breath of warm air, scented with vanilla, mint, and lavender, Arthur feels at home in a way he never does except when he is around Alfred.

And, of course, he tells them about the dear child, stumbling over his words and flushing often at Francis' good-natured jokes.

And when he is done, they sit silently for a while, Francis holding a half-eaten, forgotten pastry.

"Will you come?" Arthur asks breathlessly.

"Of course!" they chorus, smiling.

* * *

 **Posted:** June 20, 2016

 **Word Count:** 100


	24. Chapter 24

_**Eidolic**_

* * *

An hour before Alfred's Snoopy alarm goes off, Arthur trudges back in through the wall, curling up in the corner where he always does and falling asleep almost instantly.

When Alfred wakes up, he doesn't wake the faded, ghostly figure. Instead, he hurriedly draws a messy picture in unsteady lines of crayon, and leaves it on the floor for him.

Arthur stirs, his nose itching, and blinks bemusedly down at the mess of colors on paper before him, and then smiles at Alfred's terrible spelling.

 _I had a dreem! you where a night and youu fighted a dragon reel good!_

* * *

 **Posted:** June 21, 2016

 **Word Count:** 100


	25. Chapter 25

_**Eidolic**_

* * *

Alfred giggles in glee, munching on the treat the faded teenager had offered him. Chewing thoughtfully, he asked, "How come this is so much better than when Arthur makes the real stuff when mommy and daddy are asleep?"

Arthur sputters incoherently, and Matthew manages to swallow his laugh, but Francis' grin is positively evil.

"Well you see, mon chouchou, we are French…and _we_ know how to cook."

Alfred just shrugs and accepts it, much to Arthur's dismay.

Offering the child a cream puff as he ushers him away from a laughing Francis under an irately cursing Englishman, Matthew just smiles.

* * *

 **Posted:** June 24, 2016

 **Word Count:** 100


	26. Chapter 26

**_Eidolic_**

* * *

As it turns out, Alfred and Matthew get along splendidly; despite the age gap, Matthew having been sixteen when he died, Matthew retains more of his innocence than many, child or otherwise.

They promise to visit every week, and Arthur's heart warms at the simple joy he can see watching his tiny charge share his treasures with the older boy.

Francis smooths back his rumpled hair and says softly, more a statement than a question, "He means the world to you, non?"

Arthur's glare is answer enough, and the Frenchman just smiles, something sad in his eyes. "That's good, then."

* * *

 **Posted:** June 25, 2016

 **Word Count:** 100


	27. Chapter 27

_**Eidolic**_

* * *

The next week, Matthew shyly offers Alfred an almond cookie and a sapphire geode that sparkles under the flashlight, throwing glints of blue around the darkened room.

Alfred is delighted, barely remembering to be quiet as not to wake his parents, hugging the other boy's half-corporeal body as hard as he possibly can.

Francis murmurs, "One day he will grow up, you know."

"I know," Arthur whispers, his heart sinking. "I know."

"What will you do if he chooses not to believe?"

There is no malice in his words, only concern, and Arthur mumbles, "I'll watch over him."

Francis nods.

* * *

 **Posted:** June 26, 2016

 **Word Count:** 100


	28. Chapter 28

_**Eidolic**_

* * *

Arthur narrows his eyes at the teacup, considering, then relents and pops in another spoonful of honey for Alfred.

 _It'll be good for his sore throat…and he likes the sweetness._

He balances the cup carefully on a saucer and carries it back into Alfred's bedroom, poking the bundle of sheets jokingly. "Anyone in there?"

A pathetic groan, and Alfred's sweaty face pops up over the pile. "I'm heeeeeeere!" he croaks, still beaming at Arthur.

The Brit shakes his head amusedly, putting the cup on the boy's dresser. "Drink your tea."

"Okay, Art," Alfred chimes obediently.

 _I hate seeing him sick._

* * *

 **Posted:** July 9, 2016

 **Word Count:** 100

 **Author's Note:** Super sorry for the unannounced hiatus. Got really sick, then the Fourth and work kidnapped me. Please enjoy! Double update on Savoir-faire as an apology as well, if you're reading that too.


	29. Chapter 29

_**Eidolic**_

* * *

Alfred blinks owlishly at Arthur as he stands, narrowing his blue eyes into slits. "Arthur, where are you going?"

Oblivious, Arthur stands with a smile. "Oh, I baked some scones to go with your tea, lad. I'm sure you'll feel better if you eat someth—"

Alfred yelps and cowers under his blanket.

"Please don't feed me the scones, I'll be good," he whimpers.

Arthur positively deflates. "You hate my scones that much?"

Alfred peeks warily out of his blanket fort and sneezes. Seeing the look on his friend's face, he concedes, "Don't want them right now, s'all."

Arthur smiles.

* * *

 **Posted:** July 11, 2016

 **Word Count:** 100


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